What Words Cannot Define
by Preminiscence
Summary: John attempts to describe Sherlock in his blog, but he can't seem to form the right words. Sort of an introspective look at how John sees Sherlock. Slightly implied John x Sherlock. No set time-period.


A/N: This is a one-shot inspired by John's blogs and his write-ups of Sherlock. I wondered whether he ever struggled over how to define him. This is a little AU, being as it's not set in any particular time. I guess maybe after the finale, but some of the tone suggests soon after/just before he moves in. So anytime you think it fits, and whichever blog you feel it suits best, really :) This is also implied Sherlock x John, so if you don't like that, please don't leave a review saying so. Because I warned you. Here. *points* :D

Oh, and I don't own Sherlock... *sigh*

* * *

John's fingers hovered above the keyboard, unsure of which key to press first. There were so many ways to describe Sherlock Holmes, so many ways in which he intrigued him. He frowned, and began to type the first lines of his post.

**Sherlock Holmes is a... sociopathic, arrogant, brilliant man who**

No, no. John pressed backspace and deleted the small amount he'd just typed. That didn't describe Sherlock adequately at all.

**To describe Sherlock, I'd say he's a strange, messy, know-it-all**

Delete, _delete, __**delete.**_

**Sherlock can only be described if you meet him.**

John clenched his teeth, and furiously deleted his last line. None of this was right, none of it described Sherlock as he truly was.

The object of his inner debate was currently sitting - - no, sorry, _lounging _- - in an armchair, skimming the news on his phone. John had an excellent view of him from his position on the couch, laptop balancing on his knees; he had considered writing up his blog of Sherlock in his room, away from his 'subject's' deductive gaze - - but he needed to see Sherlock to be able to capture him in such a way that others could visage him too. So how could he do such a feat?

John just sat for a while, and watched Sherlock's bored expression as he flipped through websites like the pages of a mediocre book. Hoping silently that he wouldn't look up, John used his skills at touch-typing to start his post anew, eyes fixated on Sherlock every tap of the keys.

**Sherlock is everything that can be anything. He's an angelic sculpture of beauty and grace. His fingers analyze and form, become what they touch and then dispose of it into scientific reasonings and facts. His mind is brilliant, incomparable; it is able to deduce and investigate, link together what others do not. His eyes are cold and pale, and yet they see what we, in our ignorance, do not. He is aloof, a sociopath; he is detached from the world, on his own level, isolated from those around him. He is cunning and subtle, eccentric and insatiable. He has a thirst for knowledge that transcends boundaries; he is impossible and yet the truest thing I know of.**

**And yet sometimes he is just a man; only human. Sometimes his eyes will betray fear or surprise, instead of curiosity or complexity. But sometimes he - - who is apart from everyone - - will show that he cares for all... and one.**

**And that is why, even if one day we can no longer stand to even share the same flat, I shall never let him go. Because he is anything to everyone and everything to**

Sherlock tilted his head and captured John's gaze, freezing him in his seat. His finger hovered above the backspace, and stayed there for a while. His reflection flickered in Sherlock's eyes, and then the mouth of the genius smiled - - beautiful, sublime.

John glanced down, to the button labeled 'post'. He stared at it a while, and then cut the content and pasted it into a new document. He saved, and then moved it to his memory stick from the desk. He pocketed it, cleared his throat... subtly... and focused intently on finishing his blog update. When he was done, he skim-read it and posted before he could change his mind. When he finally looked up, he found Sherlock poised on the armrest beside him, staring intently at his face.

"You didn't finish your sentence," Sherlock stated, bluntly. John didn't ask which he meant, or how he knew this, because he knew and didn't need to know.

"It didn't need to be. It's obvious." And when Sherlock smiled broadly, he added; "it's what words cannot define."

* * *

A/N: Hey again! Hope you liked it, and if not, please leave a constructive review :D Or if you liked it, do so anyway! (I mean, it's not like I can force you, but reviews are nice. Like skulls XD)

Also, I apologise if John was a little ooc, especially in the last blog-post. I put myself in his place, and tried to think of what defined Sherlock, and that's what I came up with. I'd like to think it's what John would come up with too, but that's up to you to decide :) He might've not have worded it quite like that either, but I was going for 'deep' whilst hungry and tired, so yeah :D 'Nuff said.


End file.
